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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27144638">once and never again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxy_of_pi/pseuds/galaxy_of_pi'>galaxy_of_pi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Childhood Friends, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers to Enemies, Hurt No Comfort, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, and then both became spies, anyway, but i rewrote bc it kinda fit them and i wanted feedback and people to read it, but like, curt mega deserves better, he moved to the US at some point when he was pretty young though, hope you enjoy!, no happy ending, ok a little comfort, owen carvour deserves better, owen is still british bc why not, so ig they work for the same agency, sorry - Freeform, they've known each other since they were young, this was originally an original work related to something else</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:40:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,440</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27144638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxy_of_pi/pseuds/galaxy_of_pi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been friends once, years ago. Curt still remembered the first time he had met Owen; both children of no more than ten or eleven, running through the narrow streets of the city, skidding around corners, playing with plastic daggers and fake guns and imagining a future as part of the army, or perhaps FBI agents, or maybe even actors or performers.</p>
<p>There was never another idea for their futures. </p>
<p>But instead, they became spies. And for several years, worked as partners, as an unbeatable team. They were everything to each other. </p>
<p>Four years after they entered the field, they fought for the last time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Owen Carvour &amp; Agent Curt Mega, Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>once and never again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is pretty au in a way, so curt and owen grew up together and both became spies in the same agency, owen is still british so maybe he moved from england to the us? idk it's not super important </p>
<p>this was originally an original work, but edited and changed because it kinda fit curtwen</p>
<p>anyway, i hope you like it!</p>
<p>please comment!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They had been friends once, years ago. Curt still remembered the first time he had met Owen; both children of no more than ten or eleven, running through the narrow streets of the city, skidding around corners, playing with plastic daggers and fake guns and imagining a future as part of the army, or perhaps FBI agents, or maybe even actors or performers. They had become quick friends, both with the same dreams and hopes for their futures, full of optimism at the goodness and light of the world. Both could see their futures as the crisp golden light spilling from the finest sunset over the distant mountains, glowing in an array of rich magentas, pinks, and lavish purples, dancing with sparks of light; so far away, yet within sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>There was never another idea for their futures. They would become soldiers and fighters, in cleanly pressed uniforms, guns that were finely crafted and with daggers of dark steel, deadly yet aesthetically pleasing. They saw each other as brothers in arms, fighting back to back, their fights more of a choreographed dance, dodging the opponents weapons, sniping and shooting cleanly and with precision and celebrating a victory free of blood or loss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>They didn’t understand war at that time. It was all glamour to them, soldiers in neat uniforms marching down the streets, ivory and rich purple banners streaming in the blustery wind. They didn’t see the bloodstains left on the few survivors, the cold, solemn ceremonies for the fallen, the photographs and candles lining the rooms of the tombs, honoring the many who didn’t make it. They didn’t see the trauma and nightmares that plagued the ones who survived. Their fantasies of a glorious death in battle, the lavish ceremonies in their honor, the crypts and graves that preserved them in memory of their country, hailing them as heroes, was not to be their future. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Both Curt and Owen became spies. They chose to become partners early, in the first few months of training, knowing how well suited they were to fighting together and that if they weren’t to be soldiers, at least they could be spies, fighting back to back in their heroic journey. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Four years after they entered the field, they fought for the last time, Owen’s bladed staff, black with thin gold inlays swinging in vicious circles, not aiming to injure or maim, but to kill. Curt’s double bladed sword swung with just as much ferocity, sending up showers of sparks when it came into contact with Owen’s staff, edging his way closer, trying to make the staff useless, as at too close range, it couldn’t be used effectively. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>They knew each other so well that the fight stretched on for nearly twenty minutes. They had grown up together, trained and then fought together for years; it must have been about fourteen years since they had first met. But now, as they spun around each other, locked in a deadly dance of strength and wits, they were as far from what they had envisioned as possible. No longer friends, nothing like lovers, they were now enemies, determined to destroy the other or die trying, covered in blood and sweat, both staggering from wounds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Curt stared into Owen’s eyes, seeing the pain from having to fight him, and knowing it was mirrored in his own, but he couldn’t stop fighting. Whatever pain they both had, they were determined to see the fight through, no matter the outcome. Even if they didn’t want to fight or kill each other, they both had decided the other couldn’t be left alive, and would do whatever they had to to end the person who had been their soulmate for over a decade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>And finally, Owen slipped. The ground was soft, and a deep gash from a lucky swipe of Curt’s led to him slowly bleeding out. He flailed, trying to regain his balance, but fell to the ground, feeling weaker and dizzier by the second. Curt hit Owen’s staff, sending it flying away as he watched his ex-lover fall to his knees, staring down at his wound like he couldn’t believe it was there. Curt let his sword fall to the ground, watching Owen, not able to ignore the flare of pain in his own chest as he watched his best friend bleed out. Owen looked towards him as if he didn’t know what was happening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Curt?” Curt nodded, forcing away the tears as he slowly edged over, slipping away the many daggers and weapons Owen kept on him and tossing them a few feet away. He knew he was close to death, but wasn’t foolish enough to get close without making sure Owen wouldn’t try once more to kill him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He gently wrapped his arms around Owen, feeling his friend fall back into them and stare up at him. “Why are we here? Why does everything hurt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Curt could feel tears building as he stared at his friend, throwing away the hate he had had for almost a year and a half now. “Shhhh. It’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Curt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Curt nodded, trying not to let himself cry at all. “Yeah. You’re okay, O.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Owen nodded, curling slightly into Curt, shaking slightly. Curt ran his hand through Owen’s hair, grown out almost to his shoulders, still fluffy and silky. He never understood how it stayed looking beautiful no matter what, and remembered all the jokes he had made about how long Owen spent styling it every morning when he himself just ran his hand through his hair and called it good enough. He remembered the days he had hidden Owen’s comb and brush and been attacked by him, pinned down and tickled until he finally gasped out where his hair products were hidden. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He felt Owen’s hand clutch his shirt and hold on, and looked down to see his friend staring at him, with some panic in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“Why does everything hurt?” It cut into him deeper than he wanted to admit, seeing his best friend lying in his arms, in agony, slowly slipping away. He felt guilt fill him up as he stared at Owen, seeing the soft golden brown eyes that he had once loved more than anything else finally cleared of anger, but filled with pure pain as he lay there, gasping out short breaths and holding onto Curt’s shirt as if it was the only thing keeping him there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He almost hated it, that Owen didn’t seem to remember what had happened between them, that he just had love in his eyes as he looked into Curt’s eyes. In a way it was nice-- it felt like nothing had changed, but it had. Owen was dying, probably only minutes from death, and he didn’t know how to feel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“You’re just a little hurt, but you’ll be okay.” Owen nodded, burying his face in Curt’s shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“It doesn’t really hurt much anymore.” Curt could feel his heart drop as he met Owen’s  eyes again, seeing the pain starting to fade. He held his friend closer, tears starting to cloud his vision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“See? You’ll be okay. Just rest.” Owen’s eyes started to close, but then they leapt open again, fear in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I’m--I’m dying--I--Curt--”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  
  <span>“Shhhh. You’re alright. Just rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Owen was shaking more now, his eyes still full of fear as he watched Curt. “I’m sorry-- I just--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>“I know.” Curt hugged Owen, savouring the last moment he’d ever have with him. From young kids who had always loved to snuggle, hug and hold hands, to best friends who trained every day to become soldiers, to soulmates who worked as two of the best spies in the world, to enemies who hated each other, and finally, to-- well, he didn’t know what they were. Still soulmates, that had never changed. Two people, holding on to each other in the last moments they would ever have together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Curt hugged him even tighter, burying his face in Owen’s hair, their breaths mingling together, until finally, they stopped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He pulled back, staring at Owen. “O?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He ran his hand through Owen’s hair again. “O.” His voice was choking up, tears falling thick and fast as he stared at the body of his best friend. His throat constricted as he hugged him tightly, sobs starting to come out. He gently closed Owen’s eyes, and rocked him softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>Curt squeezed his eyes shut, images of him and Owen flashing through his mind, small snippets of life, gone too soon. He didn’t move, just stayed on the soft wet ground, holding his soulmate, and wishing that the world hadn’t ripped them apart. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>:)</p>
<p>i'm not sure about the end, but thought I'd post, hope you enjoyed!</p>
<p>also i was looking at the titles of all my works and I'm laughing, they're all so overdramatic and poetically dark</p></blockquote></div></div>
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